The Distant Legend
The air in the attic tasted of dust and old paper, a dry, choking sensation that coated the back of my throat as I held the silver brooch up to the gray light filtering through the single, grimy window. It was a simple thing, a twisted knot of metal with a chipped blue stone at its center, but in my hands it felt heavy with a purpose that had nothing to do with its weight. I was Elias Thorne, a...
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